


falling into you

by kairumption (lapmonster)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6296341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapmonster/pseuds/kairumption
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you can’t dance, <i>I’ll</i> still love you...but I’m afraid you won’t be able to love yourself.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling into you

**Author's Note:**

> Some sort of reaction fic to [this](http://cfile25.uf.tistory.com/original/25055F3453D48A0C214943) (140727) because I have feelings and belong in the trash. Title comes from Tourist by Yuna. Thank you to Coke for being my ever steady and marvelous beta!
> 
> Originally posted to [livejournal](http://rumwrites.livejournal.com/399.html).

_I guess I'll hang around a little while, while you're here_  
_No, I don't feel like being somewhere else_  
_I guess I wouldn't mind to fall in love a little bit_  
_Ouch, I think I fell a little more_

Jongin nearly jumps clean out of his skin when the mattress dips with added weight. Startled, he wakes with a small cry to Baekhyun hovering above him, a long, thin finger pressed to grinning lips.

Glaring, Jongin huffs, “You scared me.”

Baekhyun only shrugs innocently in response, scooting closer. Jongin isn’t quite sure how the hell Baekhyun got a hold of a key card to his room in Changsha, but he doesn’t have to reach far to guess that he sweet-talked some poor hotel employee into slipping him a copy on the sly. As infuriating as it is, he can’t really blame them; there isn’t much Baekhyun can’t make him do with those puppy dog eyes of his…

Speaking of which…when he flops onto Jongin’s bare chest, enfolded hands under his chin, Baekhyun blinks rapidly as if asking for something.

“...What?” asks Jongin warily, blinking one eye at a time in an attempt to wake up fully. Baekhyun must have planned this; he knows he’s weaker when he’s sleepy.

“Nothing,” sighs Baekhyun, eyes downcast. With an idle finger, he circles one of Jongin’s nipples. His chest rises beneath Baekhyun, the hitched breath lifting him with it.

“Seriously, hyung, what do you want?” he demands, slightly irritated, sitting up with his back against the bed frame.

Baekhyun slips off him smoothly, dramatically rolling down the length of his body with his arms up above his head, crying out, “ _Noooothiiing_!”

Jongin doesn’t mean to, but he winces when Baekhyun brushes his waist. There is a pregnant pause but for the moment, Baekhyun pretends not to notice. But he does, and Jongin knows he does. Jongin’s knees prop up obligingly to provide a pillow for Baekhyun with his thighs and lap, but a solid second passes between them when they lock eyes. There’s a warning in Jongin’s expression, like a scared kid not wanting to get caught in a lie. It’s those kind of looks that fray at the edges of Baekhyun’s heart, wheedling and coaxing only to make a home inside it. So, uncharacteristically, he says nothing about it.

“It’s just…” he continues, actually answering Jongin’s question and fiddling with Jongin’s fingers over his tummy. “You always come sleep in my bed when you’re sick...but you didn’t come. I was lonely.”

The corners of Jongin’s lips lift, glad to be away from the subject of his injuries. “You’re never alone when we’re abroad. Who did you leave to come here?”

Baekhyun bites his lip trying not to smile. “Joonmyun-hyung.” He scratches the back of his neck. “And Kyungsoo.”

Jongin laughs before they both fall into a comfortable silence; he watches Baekhyun with curious eyes. Baekhyun avoids meeting them, knowing he’ll get stuck and swallowed up.

Instead, he rolls over and leans on his elbows beside him, and draws a trail with his middle finger from Jongin’s exposed belly button, over the jut of his left hip, down to his thigh. The other fingers suspend above, poised to flatten against his leg. He gives a gentle squeeze, tilting his head. Content, Jongin smiles, a twinkle of expectation in his eyes. But Beakhyun just absentmindedly licks his lips and cocks his head to the other side, sitting up on his knees to scoot further, continuing his hand’s journey along his shin, massaging his ankle. Then Jongin winces again, not from pain, but the way Beakhyun’s lips thin and purse when he looks down at Jongin’s swollen, battered feet. The pinky toe of his right—Baekhyun’s left—is looking particularly abused, angry red.

“You’re quiet,” comments Jongin, voice small.

"Your feet are disgusting," says Baekhyun abruptly.

Jongin pushes back his hair in exasperation; he’s really not in the mood. He’s about to tell him _Thanks_ as sarcastically as he can manage, but then Baekhyun is propping Jongin’s heel on his knee and deftly kneading into the sore skin. He avoids the real problem areas, mostly, doing well to send relief where he can. It feels so nice and gentle that when Jongin _does_ say his thanks, it’s genuine.

As he works, Baekhyun skews his lips to one side in concentration and frustration, a peek of tongue poking out. “You shouldn’t have to work so hard,” he mutters, moving on to the other foot.

Jongin has to laugh at this. “Coming from _you_ , hyung? Gene Kelly?”

“‘ _Gene Kelly_ ’?” parrots Beakhyun, making fun of the somewhat-mangled pronunciation and bouncing his head side to side. But he can’t help but be a little pleased by the mention of _Singin’ in the Rain_ , flooded with memories of his nights on stage—and the ones curled up beside Jongin in front of the movie.

He keeps quiet though. His thumbs slide just beneath the ball of Jongin’s foot, rubbing ill-defined shapes while his eyes follow the lines of the raised veins of his ankles.

“Hey,” says Jongin, uncomfortable, nudging him with his free toes.

“Yeah, yeah,” answers Baekhyun dismissively, attempting to continue their conversation. “I’m Mr. Overachiever, I know, but…”

A crease forms between his eyebrows and he gets quiet again, which scares the hell out of Jongin. He leans forward to tug at Baekhyun’s earlobe, which thankfully brings out a smile. Then his eyes close, and he turns his head to lightly mouth at Jongin’s wrist, lips catching the bracelet he always wears. For a second it feels like kissing a promise, and he’s reminded why Jongin works as hard as he does; why they both do.

When Baekhyun looks up at him again, Jongin feels like he’s being pulled toward him like a magnet. He sits forward, cupping Baekhyun’s face with his palm, fingers tracing his jawline.

Baekhyun stills his hands, resting them on Jongin’s ankles. Subtly, he begins to slowly spread Jongin’s legs ever so slightly, giving him space to kneel between his calves. “You could really, really hurt yourself,” he continues finally, palms migrating up the length of Jongin’s legs, leaning forward on his knees. “Like, _permanently_.” His voice is so soft and pleading that it’s all that consumes Jongin, barely noticing as Baekhyun’s hands run over the course hair of his shins.

When he reaches his thighs, Baekhyun squeezes, massaging comfortably. “And I...” He takes a shaky breath. “If you can’t dance,” he breathes, squeezing tighter as though anchoring himself, “ _I’ll_ still love you, but...I’m afraid you won’t be able to love yourself.”

Jongin freezes, dropping his hand. “You what?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, a blush creeping up his neck. “That wasn’t the _point_ , Jongin-ah.”

“ _You_ said it. Did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it, idiot,” he snaps. But then he lowers his voice to say it again plainly, properly, if not with a little quaver: “I love you.”

Jongin is...stunned, blinking dumbly, before Baekhyun squeezes particularly hard, staring down at his own hand and sheepish and retreating. Jongin surges forward, then, grasping Baekhyun by his nape and pulling him to his lips. It’s sweet, and somehow both forceful and tentative—like Jongin. Baekhyun breathes through it, pressing up into him and using the grip on his thighs for purchase.

At first he’s reluctant to be pulled in; he doesn’t want to close his eyes and let go and pretend that Jongin loves him back because he _knows_ , he _knows_ he’s alone in these feelings, he has to be...But he lets him, because he always lets him. Lets him sweep him up, lets him grip his shirt and yank him into his lap. The kiss becomes deeper, seeking. Baekhyun presses his legs around Jongin’s hips and squeezes his shoulders, thumb stroking over his quickening pulse. It’s impatient and a sloppy, and maybe a little desperate as Jongin paws fruitlessly at the hem of Baekhyun’s shirt.

“I…” whispers Baekhyun, pushing back against Jongin’s chest, “I don’t need a pity fuck, I _get_ it, you know…”

“It’s not pity,” he blurts, sincere and a little annoyed before the hint of incredulous laughter comes into his eyes. Insistently, he cups Baekhyun’s face in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eyes. When Baekhyun keeps them downcast, shrinking in his caress, Jongin squishes his cheeks forward, making them both giggle and bump noses. Jongin repeats, “It’s not pity,” and now he’s serious, stroking over Baekhyun’s features, pushing his hair back. He kisses his temple, over those two moles the world rarely sees. “It’s an answer.”

Jongin begins an onslaught of kisses, peppering all over Baekhyun’s face. Overwhelmed, Baekhyun can only part his lips, catching glances of Jongin’s skin. His voice is stuck in his throat, stuck on Jongin’s words. And suddenly it’s simultaneously too much and not enough, grappling to get undressed. Between them, it’s usually not much more than backstage hand jobs and frantic frotting in the dorms, but it’s different abroad. They can take their time. Even so, they rush, pulling off clothes in a flurry.

“Wait a minute, wait,” mumbles Baekhyun into Jongin’s mouth. He’s down to his boxers now—lips red and swollen—when he leans back on his heels, knees tucked to his chest and trapping Jongin’s fingers between his thighs and calves, to retrieve his discarded jeans. A little petulant whine escapes Jongin, thumbs thrumming impatiently at the other’s knees. Then he realizes what he’s reaching for...

“You have lube,” chuckles Jongin, shaking his head. “Of course you have lube.”

“And condoms,” he says proudly, procuring said accoutrements. Then he admits with a sheepish grin, “These aren’t even my jeans.”

Again, Jongin just shakes his head with a grin. “Come back here,” he commands without heat, the smile reaching his voice, wriggling his fingers free from Baekhyun's legs and pulling him by the elbows back into his lap. The supplies in Baekhyun’s hands rest cooly against Jongin’s nape when he wraps his arms around him again. He keeps smiling right on into the kiss, only stopping to bite Jongin’s bottom lip. It brings out a low hum, rumbling in Jongin’s belly, that morphs suddenly into a moan when Baekhyun begins rolling his hips against him. The thin layers between them leave little to the imagination, hot arousal heavy against one another.

Jongin has to break the kiss, hands slipping down from Baekhyun’s nape to his front, over his chest. He huffs into his shoulder, lips marking vows into paler skin; he’s all but silent next to Baekhyun, whose voice only gets higher. His fingernails drag and leave crescent moons into the skin of Jongin’s back. Shaking with effort and sensation, he nearly drops the lube and condom in his other hand before he reluctantly retreats from the warmth of Jongin’s lips to bring them into his sightline.

Nodding dumbly, Jongin simply hooks his thumbs beneath Baekhyun’s boxers, and when he pulls down he has to burst out laughing because Baekhyun’s dick _sproings_ up, slapping against his stomach.

“Shut _up_ , oh my God,” mutters Baekhyun as he drops the condom and lube, staggers to his feet on the bed (a little dizzy) to shimmy free from his underwear and kick it to the side. His face and ears are glowing pink but his grin matches Jongin’s, who is still laughing while hastily removing his own underwear.

They did this often, easily hopping from serious to silly in a matter of seconds. Although he’s standing there arms akimbo and shaking his head in exasperation, Baekhyun is grateful that his confession didn’t change how goofy they can get when they fuck. Sex is fun and funny, loving each other shouldn’t make any difference; if at all, it only enhanced their ridiculousness.

On his knees, Jongin then folds his hands in pseudo-reverence and, grinning impishly, bows his head in would-be apology—but the real apology isn’t until he leans forward and kisses the head of Baekhyun’s cock. Baekhyun has to stop mid-laugh to suck in a too-short breath, biting hard on his bottom lip. It’s that breath that he holds in anticipation, waiting for Jongin to take him fully into his mouth.

But Jongin plays with him, swiping his tongue along the underside of his length. Baekhyun’s knees shake, tightly gripping Jongin’s broad shoulders to keep his hips from stuttering into him. He fails, mostly, poking Jongin’s cheek. He apologizes quickly between expletives but Jongin doesn’t mind, burying his face into the nest of black curls. When Jongin’s tongue finds his balls Baekhyun just about loses it, knees growing weaker under him; he tries to steady himself with one hand on the headboard and the other grasping low on Jongin’s hair, palm cradling his nape. Jongin holds him in place, fingers splayed over Baekhyun’s quivering thighs.

“ _Please_ ,” begs Baekhyun hoarsely, bending over him. It doesn’t stop there as he continues babbling half-intelligibly about how much he loves his mouth, his lips, his tongue, how wet and hot and tight and, _oh_ , how much he wants it. Jongin’s name is wedged between these pleas as Baekhyun massages his scalp encouragingly. Jongin meets his eyes, amused by the non-stop monologue and purposefully breathes heavily against him.

He then smiles mischievously against Baekhyun’s cock, lips dragging back to the tip. Baekhyun’s breath hitches in his throat, stopping cold mid-sentence. Jongin has always been competitive; implementing it by striving to push Baekhyun over that precipice: to the point where his mind goes blank and words leave him. It takes a lot to shut Baekhyun up, but Jongin knows how all too well.

Finally, _finally_ , his lips stretch over, engulfing wholly in one swift descent. At first, Baekhyun is silent in shock, stock still. He whispers an “ _Ohh_ ,” and then another low, wordless moan. Jongin pulls back, hollowing his cheeks, and sees that Baekhyun is _gone_ , run out of words but still silently mouthing the air like he’s praying. Pleased, he leisurely bobs his head around Baekhyun’s dick, taking only a moment to pop off and tongue at the slit, before disappearing it again past his lips, casually fondling his balls.

Baekhyun’s grip on his hair grows tighter. Without stopping, Jongin hums, pitch inclining in question; he nods in response, breathing too fast to actually verbally warn before he’s coming down Jongin’s relaxed throat. Baekhyun shudders as he feels Jongin swallow around his gradually softening dick, yelps when he reaches for a cheeky ass-squeeze.

Opening his eyes, Baekhyun looks down at Jongin once he’s released him. Eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, Jongin looks up at him with just about the dopiest grin he’s ever seen that Baekhyun can’t help but fondly pet his hair, pushing it back from his now damp forehead. His eyes slip closed and he practically _purrs_ at the touch. With his thumb, Baekhyun wipes off the little string of spittle dribbled over Jongin’s chin, beaming.

“Ugh,” sounds Jongin, recoiling and hiding his suddenly blushing face behind his hands.

“ _That_ ’s what you get embarrassed over?” he laughs, hands on his hips again. “You just swallowed my cum, a little spit embarrasses you?”

“It’s _all_ embarrassing,” he professes, lowering his hands but still avoiding his eyes. “I just...forget sometimes…”

Baekhyun smirks, ruffling Jongin’s hair, and bends at the waist to kiss him, possessively relishing in his own taste. He gently lifts Jongin’s chin, the tips of his fingers skimming down over his neck. Their eyes meet and Jongin’s pupils are still blown wide in arousal, clearly not scared away by embarrassment. He’s now painfully hard against his leg, a snail trail of precum dotting his inner thigh. Baekhyun smiles into his mouth, eyes droopy in post-orgasmic high, but he flicks them in the direction of the previously forgotten lube and condom anyway.

He whispers, “You still wanna…”

“Yeah,” answers Jongin breathlessly, voice scratchy. Baekhyun winces, hoping his voice won't stay wrecked for the concert.

Baekhyun plops down on the bed in front of Jongin, his legs all but collapsing beneath him. Jongin already has the tube in his hand, squeezing a small dollop on his forefingers as Baekhyun leans back on his hands and spreads his bent knees wide—Baekhyun is rarely shy about his body, mind easy with being exposed and vulnerable before him.

He winces when Jongin introduces a finger to his entrance, the lube still cool to the touch against the tight heat of his ass; Jongin works into him so slowly it drives him mad, over-sensitive but still eager. His elbows give beneath him, lying flat on his back. He turns his head side-to-side, thrashing weakly, pushing Jongin’s fingers further into himself; the retreating flush on his chest from being sucked off rushes back. He’s always hated that, thinks himself blotchy and stained—but Jongin thinks he looks painted, reaching his free hand to glide over the heaving abdomen, admiring the color of heat, of warmth.

Baekhyun stares at the ceiling, blinking sweat from his glazed eyes. In the pit of his stomach he, faintly, _unbelievably_ , feels the stirring of another hard-on stuttering to life.

“Fuck,” he mutters, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. Adds a whine: “Are you—?”

“Be patient,” replies Jongin beseechingly, leaning forward to kiss the underside of his chin and stretching him further. His thumb brushes past Baekhyun’s soft cock, which twitches pathetically in an attempt. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” he breathes. Jongin kisses him again, his neck this time, flicking his tongue over his pulse. “ _Fuck_ ,” Baekhyun repeats, hissing, holding tight to Jongin’s biceps. “I’m gonna get hard again, I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead, hyung,” chuckles Jongin obligingly, and Baekhyun can _feel_ his smug grin when he kisses his pec.

“You—” he tries, but interrupts himself with a groan when Jongin’s full lips close around a nipple and pulls a little with his teeth. He forgets what he was going to say. Something about respect for elders. In any case, he reverts back to begging, all pride sacrificed in the name of a good fuck. He’s at half-mast now and near sobbing with overstimulation, but still asking for more.

For something to do, still murmuring constantly, he runs his hands over Jongin’s neck and shoulders and arms and his face, tracing the line of his nose, his eyebrows, his lips. Jongin giggles under his pretty fingers, shaking them off and scrunching his nose playfully. His gaze rests on Baekhyun’s flushed cheeks, his bright, blissed-out eyes.

“Jonginnie,” he whispers plaintively, bottom lip jutting out.

He groans in response. “No aegyo in bed,” he scolds, but he’s beaming down at him, a smile so bright Baekhyun is nearly blinded. He sits back, then, pulling his fingers from Baekhyun to leave him to clench fruitlessly around nothing.

Baekhyun whines again.

“Shh, shh,” hushes Jongin, gently laughing but palming his hip reassuringly as he reaches for the condom. His lubed fingers slip over the package, making slow work of putting it on. After what feels like an excruciatingly long wait—to Baekhyun, that is—Jongin lines himself up to his entrance.

He doesn’t take his time pushing into him, two short thrusts and he’s all the way inside. Baekhyun cries out, wrapping his legs around Jongin’s hips and pulling him closer. He can’t ever be close enough. Jongin hisses at the sensation, pulling Baekhyun into his lap again. He links his fingers behind the dimples of Baekhyun’s lower back, making his whole body curve back in a beautiful arch. Baekhyun is lost, moaning so loudly he _knows_ their neighbors can hear; Jongin is quieter, as always, and pants against his ribs, making understated, devastating noises.

Sitting up, Baekhyun grabs onto Jongin’s shoulder—with what remaining strength, he doesn’t know. “I want to see you,” he mumbles in explanation, caressing either side of Jongin’s neck.

Jongin nods, eyes unfocused.

“You okay?” asks Baekhyun, pressing closer, his flagging erection trapped between their bodies.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he answers vaguely, grimacing at the bizarre twist of pain and pleasure swirling in him. “It’s my waist again. Just. I should put you down.” He adds quickly, “Sorry.”

Baekhyun looks about ready to hop right off Jongin’s dick. “Don’t be _sorry_!”

Jongin looks like he’s about to apologize again, setting Baekhyun’s back against the bed again. He holds firmly to Baekhyun’s waist when he squirms, obviously unsure if they should go on. Instead of saying he’s sorry, Jongin assures him, “I still want this. I still want you.”

“Alright, you big teddy bear,” he chuckles, covering how worried he is. He strokes over Jongin’s thighs, propping his own up over them, still stretched and full and deliriously turned on but sobering. Baekhyun’s voice is barely over a whisper when he speaks again. “I wanted you to _rest_. This isn’t exactly restful, you know.”

“Huh-hush,” stutters Jongin, rolling his hips into him again. “Endorphins are natural painkillers.”

“You...you’re sure you’re alright?” he asks haltingly, stimulation overpowering again.

“Yeah, this position is better,” he replies, leaning over him. When Baekhyun, knees pressed back, gives him a suspicious look, he adds, “I’m serious.”

Baekhyun whispers an “Okay” before kissing him. Jongin melts into it, any lingering pain dissolving as everything falls away except Baekhyun beneath him. He braces himself on his forearms on either side of him, mere inches from Baekhyun’s face. Baekhyun hooks his heels behind Jongin’s knees, trying to steady himself, move with him. The tips of their noses graze as Jongin continues to rock into him, and they watch each other in silent reverence.

Jongin sinks to Baekhyun’s shoulder, lying heavily atop him. “Me too,” he mumbles so softly against Baekhyun’s collarbone that the other can’t quite make it out; his lips skitter over the skin of his chest before hiding his face.

“What?” Baekhyun blinks blearily, fingers carding through Jongin’s hair. He tugs him back a little, away from his chest, to look into his eyes. “Hmm?” he hums gently, coaxing, a hazy smile stretching his lips. “What is it?”

“Me too,” he repeats. He buries his face against Baekhyun’s torso again, lashes fluttering, tickling, arms wrapping tightly around his waist; the shift slides his length just against Baekhyun’s prostate in a way that has him biting down on his thumb to keep from crying out. “I lo...I love you too.”

Breath catching in his throat, Baekhyun stares in shocked awe. He didn’t expect him to say it. He stays silent, leaving a long, heartfelt kiss to the top of Jongin’s head. He’s afraid to say anything lest it come out shaky and weak, and worse—he has nothing to say. It’s the umpteenth time today Jongin has made him speechless, and he sincerely hopes it isn’t the last.

Jongin begins to move inside him again, but still won’t show his face, groping around until he takes hold of Baekhyun’s now fully hard cock. He’s always been better at the physical; his body knows more than his mind does. Baekhyun gasps in Jongin’s ear, and Jongin responds, simply, “Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun comes again with a muffled cry, spilling over his midriff, the moment Jongin looks up into his eyes and says his name again, unadorned, sweet, intoxicating. He follows soon after, hips canting without rhythm, only need. They linger, not letting go of each other for a while.

☆

They’ve cleaned themselves up now, after that stunned moment of quiet reflection, aftershocks and the at once heaviness and weightlessness settling underneath their sticky skin. Baekhyun sits up, looking down at the courtesy robe Jongin used to clean him and wondering if he can stand yet. He can’t, he soon learns, rolling off the bed comically with a _whumph!_

Jongin rushes from the adjoined bathroom in his boxers, trying not to laugh at the sprawled boy before him. “Are you okay?” he asks with real concern, but a smile threatens to split his face as he strides to help him up.

“Yes,” he retorts, barking with laughter, holding onto Jongin’s arms. But then Baekhyun frowns, pouty as a child, when he sees the waist wrap back in its place. “You changed the subject,” he says pointedly.

Jongin knows what he’s talking about and looks away sheepishly, ears hot. “You brought it up.”

Baekhyun takes a half-hearted swipe at him, for which he ducks easily. “I mean it,” he begins, stepping away and starting to dress. “I know we both work too hard. We _all_ work too hard. And these last few months without—well, it’s been...yeah.” They both wince. “But you should, you know. Take it easy. From time to time. Give yourself time to heal.”

Jongin sits on the edge of the bed, studying Baekhyun’s face. After a beat, he nods. “Okay,” he promises.

“That’s it?”

Jongin grins wryly. “That’s it.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes Baekhyun think that although simple, it’s not empty. He looks down at the bracelet at Jongin’s wrist, remembers what it means, and how this new promise aligns, overlaps. Without a word, Baekhyun finds his way between Jongin’s knees, cups his jaw, and kisses him, long and slow and tender. When he pulls away, he runs his fingers over that bracelet, as though imbuing his feelings in the wooden beads. Then, after resting his forehead against Jongin’s and giving him a last, quick peck he turns to go back to his own room but—

“You’re not going to stay?” asks Jongin tentatively, catching Baekhyun’s hand. “I thought you hated sleeping alone.”

Baekhyun grins back at him, kisses his palm. “I’ll stay.”

 


End file.
